


Dat Mercenary Outfit Tho

by Conhayth



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Father/Son Incest, Frottage, Incest, Kissing, M/M, Neck Kissing, Parent/Child Incest, Semi-Public Sex, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:51:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5208239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conhayth/pseuds/Conhayth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor returns to his father, dressed in that one outfit. Haytham takes one good look at his throat and well, that mission is NOT happening today.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dat Mercenary Outfit Tho

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to my homies at the Conhayth Super Trash Club. Thank you for the prompt. Sorry this is short.

When Connor returns, dressed in stolen clothes instead of his usual Assassin robes, Haytham stares, entranced by the long stretch of golden neck laid bare.

The Assassin takes a sip of water, swallowing as his gaze meets Haytham's. “What are you-” He gasps, the breath knocked out of him as his father slams him into a wall. Connor's eyes go wide but he doesn't struggle, recognizing the lusty glint in the Templar's eyes.

Haytham doesn't reply, tearing Connor's stolen shirt open, unmindful of the way buttons scatter, of the mission still to come. And then he leans close, biting at Connor's jaw. He uses one hand to force his son's head up, eager to mark up every inch of beautiful tanned throat on display. 

Connor lets him, moaning quietly, aroused by both the desperate need of his father and the danger of doing this in public.

“You are mine, and all the world shall know it.” Haytham growls, eyes dark.

A shiver runs through Connor at his father's words and he tilts his head back, groaning out a needy “Rake'ni...”

Haytham slides a leg between Connor's, letting the younger man grind up against him, as he bites back down on his throat.

Connor ruts against Haytham's thigh, the danger of it all only increasing his desperation. He lets out a little whine as Haytham bites down hard enough to draw blood, wanting more.

Haytham pulls back, holding Connor's hips against the wall, enjoying the way Connor jerks, desperate for more friction; and the slow trickle of blood down his neck.

Connor whimpers loudly, struggling against his father's hands.

Haytham slaps a hand over his mouth as he hears voices at the end of the alley.

Connor stills, heart hammering.

“What was that? Do you think I should go look?” It's a soldier.

“No. Probably some stupid mutt. Not our problem. Come on, we're almost off.”

“Right.” After thirty seconds of silence, the soldiers move off.

“Trying to get us caught?” Haytham hisses, even as he moves his hand down to stroke Connor through his trousers. “Quiet, boy.”

Connor nods, breath hitching as Haytham rubs his sensitive head through the fabric.

Haytham leans in again, licking over Connor's throat, as he pulls his hand away, pushing his leg between his son's.

Connor catches on and grinds against Haytham's leg, biting into his bottom lip to stay quiet.

Haytham moans softly into Connor's throat, marking it over and over. “God, Connor.”

It isn't long before Connor comes with a frantic thrust and a quiet groan, collapsing against his father.

Haytham pulls back, holding Connor up for a few moments to let him recover.

As soon as Connor regains his feet, Haytham is straightening their clothes hurriedly. “Come Connor. We're going home.”

“What about the mission?”

“Tomorrow!” Haytham starts walking back to where they tied up their horses. “If you can even walk, by the time I'm through with you.”

Connor smirks, picking up his pace. “I bet I will walk just fine, old man.”

“Good luck.”

 

 


End file.
